


Wake-Up Call

by Marrilyn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ass-Kicking, Banter, F/F, Fluff, Karma - Freeform, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sort Of, Well... More Like Face-Kicking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-21
Packaged: 2019-11-27 05:05:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18190133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: An unsuccessful prank on Rowena results in a kick to your face and a bloody nose.





	Wake-Up Call

The first thing you saw upon opening your eyes that fine morning was the bright, sparkly pink of Rowena's nail polish.

Confused, you blinked, once twice, three times. As your vision cleared, you were able to make out nails, then, slowly, fingers.

No, not fingers — toes!

The pale little digits twitched and wiggled as she slept, curling up every now and then like a cat's paws. It took every ounce of strength for you not to squeal, not to give in to the cuteness. Rowena had a tendency to be adorable in her sleep, wiggling her fingers and toes like a restless kitty, sticking out her lower lip in a pout, at times letting out little sounds that sounded suspiciously like purring. An almost-four-hundred-year-old witch had no business being that cute, yet here she was. Ever the rebel.

Using your elbow for support, you raised yourself up into a half-sitting position to look her over. She was sprawled next to you, clutching the blanket to her chest in a death grip, her mane of hair spilled over your feet like like a crimson cloth. Her face was the picture of peace, no nightmares in sight, the adorable pout firm on her mouth. How had she ended up there? She could be a messy sleeper from time to time, but she'd never done this before.

Eyes trailing back and forth from her face to her feet, an idea popped up in your mind. Stifling a naughty giggle, you laid bad down. Rowena's toes still moved, still curled and uncurled and wiggled, restless, playful. Taunting. Daring. An "accident" waiting to happen.

_ It's a bad idea, _ the angel on your left shoulder told you. A very, very bad idea. With possible consequences of glares and pouts thrown your way, that face that looked so peaceful etched with disappointment, with anger directed straight at you.

The devil on your right, though, smiled haughtily and said,  _ Do it! It'll be fun! _ And damn, if you weren't up for some fun on a sunny Spring morning, consequences be damned!

You opened your mouth wide and, as Rowena's toes twitched again, captured the big digit with your lips.

And, like an overly playful, bored cat, you bit down.

It happened in a split second. One moment — one teeny-tiny moment — it felt as if time stood still. As if Rowena froze in place, still as a statue. Then, before you could process what was happening, her toe was pulled back, polish scraping against your teeth, and her foot slammed into your face with impeccable strength as if you were a soccer ball and Rowena were an overzealous player aiming for the goal.

A yelp broke free from your mouth, loud, aching. Your face throbbed as if repeatedly struck by a hammer. Thud, thud, thud, the pain pulsated, rich, immense, overwhelming, spreading from your nose to your cheeks and down to your mouth like an infection. You clasped your hands over the aching areas. Something warm trickled down your nose and over your lips; your wiped it away and looked down to examine it, muttering curses to yourself at the sight of blood covering your fingers.

You were an idiot. A new, special kind of stupid. A specimen that should have been examined in a lab by a crazy-haired doctor in dirty scrubs and plastic gloves.

"What in hell happened?" Rowena demanded, suddenly awake and sitting up, fully alert.

Her wide eyes studied your bloody face, then trailed down to her big toe. She shot you a glare that had killed before, one of those that was both threatening and disbelieving. The I-can't-believe-I'm-dating-that kind. You spat out the chips of nail polish that remained stuck in your mouth, prompting her glare to intensify.

"You are a bloody idiot," she said, a statement that rang so true you didn't have it in you to be offended.

You chuckled at her use of "bloody," wiping away another crimson trail down your nose.

"You kicked me," you whined.

"Because you  _ bit _ me," she shot back. "Why in hell would you do that?"

You shrugged. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

In hindsight, it wasn't. Your shoulder angel was right.

Rowena blinked, once, twice, as your words settled in. "Idiot! Bampot!"

"I am," you agreed. There was no disputing that. Although… "You gotta admit it  _ was _ kinda funny!"

A light laugh accompanied your words, teasing, playful.

Rowena wasn't amused in the slightest. "It was stupid, is what it was. You ruined my varnish!" she whined, face falling as she examined the chipped nail polish. "I had it done two days ago!"

"You kicked me in the face. I'd say we're even."

She pouted, and you melted, overwhelmed by the sheer cuteness of the expression.

"It's what you deserve for being a menace," she said with a huff.

No arguments there.

A moment passed in silence, you clutching your throbbing face and her watching you like a hawk, looking for new tricks up your sleeve, for hidden dangers. Finding none, her expression softened.

"Did I hit you hard?"

There was regret in her tone, guilt she rarely let show. As annoying as you could be at times, she wished you no harm. She never wanted to hurt you, even in perceived self-defense.

"A bit," you admitted. "For such a small lady, you pack a mean kick!"

Rowena chuckled. Her arms opened, welcoming, inviting. "Come here. Let me see."

You crawled over to her like a faithful puppy. "It's not really that bad. Just hurts a bit."

"Wee poppet," she cooed condescendingly.

You rolled your eyes, but said nothing, deeming the comment deserved. She examined your face, tapped your nose and areas around it gently. You flinched at every touch, tiny bursts of pain — or rather discomfort — shooting through you.

"Don't be a baby," she chided.

"It hurts," you whined.

"Let it be a lesson."

Lesson learned.

"Some ice should take care of it," she announced once she'd looked you over thoroughly.

"Yes, Doctor."

"Don't sass me, lass!"

"Am not."

You were.

Rowena sighed. "Why do I put up with you?"

"Because you love me."

"Don't remind me," she deadpanned.

"You asked," you said nonchalantly. A giggle escaped you. "I love you, too, so I guess we're kinda in the same boat."

She rolled her eyes.

You booped her nose, earning you another glare.

"Payback," you simply said.

"Naughty," Rowena said. "You're making me tea for waking me up and ruining my nail varnish. And later you're taking me for a pedicure." You were about to argue, but she held up a perfectly manicured finger, a warning. "Compensation."

"Fine," you said. There was no use arguing when she was like this. She had the last word.

She smiled. "Good girl."

You sealed the deal with a kiss, soft and sweet, as electric as the very first one. And suddenly, your day was brighter, failed prank and aching face forgotten in place of butterflies fluttering happily in your stomach.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by OswinTheStrange.


End file.
